Ties
by asteroidbuckle
Summary: It's Thanksgiving, a time for family, but there's one member of Josh's family who's missing. Future fic. NOT SLASH.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters. No profit being made, no offense intended.

**A/N:** This fic was inspired by the holiday and nothing more. It's a little angsty and a lot schmaltzy, but I couldn't help myself. To everyone who celebrates the holiday...Happy Thanksgiving! I'm thankful for all the people who read my fics and support my writing. This one's for you guys. Enjoy!

***

**Ties**

Molly's tricycle sat in the middle of the driveway, its front wheel turned towards the street, and Josh sighed in exasperation. He put the car in park halfway into the driveway and got out, leaving the engine idling as he moved the obstacle to the side, its pink and white tassels fluttering cheerfully.

The way now clear, Josh got back in the car and pulled all the way into the driveway. At least they left him room to park. With the number of vehicles parked along the street in front of his house (and on the grass, too, and won't the homeowners' association love that), he was amazed there was any room left at all for his own car.

Grabbing his leather bag from the passenger's seat, he got out of the car and closed the door with a heavy thud, pressing the lock button on his car remote. The car horn honked briefly, telling him the car was locked.

It was almost dusk. He looked around the neighborhood—a row of neatly manicured lawns and cookie cutter houses—and noticed the rosy pink shadows creeping down the street towards his house, which was nestled in a cul-de-sac in the east end of the subdivision.

The air was cool, but not cold. It never quite got cold in Huntington Beach, even in November. But the temperature had dropped enough to at least give an idea of winter.

"James Walter Nichols!"

Josh smiled at the sound of his older son's name being yelled in exasperation in his mother's distinctive voice. He turned his head towards the house in time to see the boy come bounding out the front door, a mixture of overgrown limbs and eight-year-old exuberance.

"Dad!" he said, slightly out of breath as he ran up to Josh. There was a wide smile on his face as he looked up at Josh with dark brown eyes. "You gotta save me from Mom. Quick, hide me!" He ducked behind Josh's legs, his hands gripping the seams of Josh's trousers tightly just as Mindy appeared in the doorway, looking slightly frazzled.

"Jamie!" she yelled, then noticed Josh and huffed visibly, her shoulders rising and falling with the dramatic breath. She placed her hands on her hips, white dishtowel dangling from her left hand, and smiled. "Hey."

Josh smiled back. "Hey, Beautiful. Tough day?" He felt Jamie shift behind him, felt the boy's nose press into the small of his back.

Mindy threw a cautious look over her shoulder, then pulled the front door shut as she stepped off the stoop and walked towards him. "You owe me, Dr. Nichols," she said. "You owe me _big_." She stopped right in front of him and pressed her hand to his chest as she stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss.

"Looking for someone?" Josh whispered against her lips, then pulled back and nodded subtly to their son.

Mindy's dark eyes shifted downwards, where Jamie was hiding, then back up to Josh's. "If you see Jamie," she said, a small smile curving her lips, "tell him he's grounded for a week."

A protest rose up from behind Josh, but it was quickly squelched, as if Jamie suddenly realized the noise would give his top-secret position away.

Josh stifled a grin. "I'll be sure to tell him."

Mindy smiled. "Don't be too long, okay?" She leaned in a little. "My mother is driving me crazy. I need a buffer."

"Who? Claire?" Josh said, leaning in for another quick kiss. "She's a sweetheart."

Mindy just rolled her eyes as he turned and headed back towards the house.

"Is it safe?" Jamie asked a moment later.

Josh chuckled. "That depends," he said, turning around to face his son, looking down at him. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Jamie said.

"Jamie."

"What?" The boy looked up at him, the picture of doe-eyed innocence.

"You better tell me," Josh said. "Because your mom's version is gonna be worse."

Jamie scuffed his feet along the driveway and looked down at his shoes. "I kinda…meltedkatiesbarbieintheoven."

"What was that?" Josh needed clarification because what he thought his son had just said couldn't possibly be true.

Jamie looked up at him and blinked a couple times. Then he sighed, as if deciding to accept his fate like a man. "I kinda melted Katie's Barbie in the oven."

Josh closed his eyes and let out his breath in a slow, calming stream. Ah, the holidays. Food. Family. More potential victims for his son.

*

The house was crowded. How it had gotten to be he and Mindy's turn to host Thanksgiving dinner again so soon, he couldn't quite figure out. Last year it had been at Mom and Dad's house and he could still remember the way he and Mindy had almost giggled themselves to death as they'd had sex in his old bed in his old room, still almost exactly as it had been twelve years before when he'd last lived there.

Claire Crenshaw was sitting primly along the edge of the wing chair next to the sofa, the only spot of order in a sea of chaos. He ankles were folded carefully beneath the chair and she was making a show of watching the news, even though the TV was muted.

Josh set his bag down next to the credenza and leaned over the back of the chair to plant a kiss on his mother-in-law's cheek, grinning when he felt her flinch at the contact.

She looked up at him and a small smile cracked her stolid demeanor. Her skin was as perfect as porcelain and every strand of her silvering hair was in its place, held back by a burnished gold clip at the nape of her neck. "Josh," she said with genuine warmth. "So lovely to see you."

Josh plopped down on the sofa and stretched out his long legs. It was so good to be home, surrounded by the warmth of his own little universe. "You too, Claire. When did you and Rich get into town?"

Claire smiled at Josh's nickname for her husband. No one ever got away with calling the man anything but Richard. Well, except for Josh. "Around three o'clock," she said. She studied him for a moment. "You're working too hard."

Josh laughed. "Well, someone's got to pay for all this," he said, gesturing around him. "All this bliss doesn't come free, you know. This is the house that poor dental hygiene built."

"Still," Claire said and Josh already knew where this was going. "You really should take on a partner at the office. Give yourself a break." _If not for you, then for Mindy, _Josh heard inside his head.

"Partners need paychecks," Josh said, smiling. "And I like my money where it is—in my bank account."

"Daddy!"

Josh looked towards the voice and braced himself for the inevitable crash against his ribcage as his little daughter threw herself against him.

"Hey, Mollybean," Josh said, brushing his fingers through her brown hair. It was soft beneath his palm, just like when she was a baby. But she wasn't a baby anymore; she was turning six in two months.

The little girl sat up, bracing herself against his chest with her hands, and looked earnestly into his face. "How was work?"

Josh smiled and smoothed an unruly strand of hair from her forehead. Her eyes were hazel, but looked green in the lamplight. "Boring," he said. "No cavities today."

Molly giggled. "What about extructions?"

Josh laughed. "Ext_rac_tions, Moll. And no, none of those, either."

Wrinkling her nose, Molly said, "Papa wants to talk to you."

Dad. "He does, huh? What does he want?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Molly said, sliding off his lap. "I'm just a kid. No one tells me anything." She looked up at him, hands on her hips, looking so much like Mindy, Josh had to laugh out loud.

Molly Nichols: Mini-Mindy.

Josh sat up. "Alright, kiddo," he said, and saw that Claire had gone back to staring at the television. She was uncomfortable around children, which was probably why she only had one. Josh often wondered how she survived Mindy's childhood. He looked back at his daughter. "Where's Papa?"

"In the kitchen," Molly said. "Stealing cookies."

Josh laughed again and stood up, his lower back aching from bending over the dentist's chair all day. Even with a stool to sit on, it still took a toll. He took another look at Claire then said to Molly, "Why don't you show your grandmother the new book you got? The one about birds."

"Okay," she said and as Josh walked out of the living room, he heard her say, "Hey, Granny, wanna see a picture of a woodpecker?"

*

Everyone else was in the kitchen when Josh walked in. Mom stood next to Mindy, peeling potatoes over the sink. Richard Crenshaw sat at the breakfast bar, doing his best to look interested in whatever story Dad was regaling him with. Megan sat at the dining table with the kids, playing Go Fish.

"Greetings, family," Josh announced. "I'm here, so let the fun begin."

"Josh!"

"Son!"

"Daddy!"

"Uncle Josh!"

Josh made the rounds, kissing cheeks, giving hugs, and shaking hands where appropriate. Katie, his four-year-old niece, grabbed hold of his legs and wouldn't let go until he put her on his shoulders and walked her around the kitchen. By the time he set her down, she was giggling and out of breath. "I heard about Barbie," he said seriously. She had Megan's eyes. "My condolences."

He was certain Katie didn't know what condolences were, but her face grew solemn and her eyes grew wide. "She melted," she said matter-of-factly. "Jamie did it."

"And Jamie's going to buy you a new one, too," Josh said, catching his son's eyes across the table. "Out of his allowance."

Katie smiled, then looked across the table at her cousin, whose face had fallen at the news that he'd have use his own money to buy a doll of all things. "See? I _told_ you."

Josh stood up, running his hand through his niece's brown hair, and looked at his sister across the table. "Where's Todd?"

"He went to the store to get green beans," Megan said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "An hour ago. Apparently the best place to buy them is Los Angeles."

"You never know, Megs. Maybe there's a run on green beans. It's just not Thanksgiving without green bean casserole, you know," Josh said, trying not to laugh.

"Uh-huh," Megan said. "Boob." But she was smiling.

Josh looked over at his dad. He was graying at the temples and pronounced crows' feet fanned at the corner of each eye, but his smile was still a thousand watts and his enthusiasm hadn't diminished in the least. Case in point: his current conversation with Richard. Dad was gesturing wildly, fully engrossed in his story, completely oblivious to the look of pain on Richard's face.

Normally, Josh would let Richard suffer a little more, just for laughs. But it was Thanksgiving, after all. Josh decided to take a little pity on him.

He walked up to his dad and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, looking at him, "but Molly said you wanted to talk to me."

Dad looked up, his hands poised mid-air in what Josh could only guess was his dad's impersonation of a storm front. Something flickered in his eyes and suddenly, the sparkle in them darkened. "Yeah," he said. "I do."

Josh looked at his father-in-law. The look of gratitude in the man's dark eyes did not go unnoticed. "Excuse us," Josh said.

"Certainly. Take your time," Richard said with feeling as he reached for his glass of what Josh knew was scotch and soda.

*

The back deck had just been renovated and the smells of pine and Thompson's Water Seal were still sharp in the air. Josh looked up at the sky as he listened to the heavy slide of the glass door behind him. He heard his dad's hollow footsteps on the wood and said before Dad could even speak, "It's about Drake, isn't it?"

The footsteps stopped and Josh could feel the weight of his brother's name, heavy in the air between them. He turned around, saw Dad looking back at him from the muted pool of yellow light coming from the kitchen.

"He called this afternoon," Dad said. "He said he—"

"—won't be able to make it this year," Josh finished. It was the same thing Drake said every year, the same thing he said for every birthday, holiday, and special occasion in the Parker-Nichols-Crenshaw clan. He'd missed the births of Megan's daughter and all three of Josh and Mindy's kids.

"What is it this time?" he asked, fighting to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He shouldn't care anymore. "Earthquake? Tsunami? An orgy in Tampa?"

Dad just looked at him for a long moment—so long, in fact, that Josh started to squirm a little under the scrutiny. "He's in California," Dad finally said. "LA, actually."

"LA." Josh felt cold. It was the closest Drake had been in years, at least as far as Josh knew. The prospect of it stole his breath.

"LA," he said again, his voice faraway. He flicked his gaze to the scene inside his kitchen: It was cozy and familiar and it made him happy. But despite all that, there was still something, some_one_ missing. He looked back at his dad. "Is he coming?" He was almost afraid to ask.

Dad pressed his lips together and met Josh's eyes. "He doesn't think you want to see him, son," he said softly.

Josh let his dad's words sink in, felt them curl inside his chest and settle there. That's funny, he thought. Because he'd always thought it was the other way around.

*

The ring sounded tinny as Josh pressed his cell phone to his ear. Maybe it was just because he barely heard it over the throb of blood in his temples.

Five rings. Josh wondered if Drake was debating whether or not to answer. He didn't have a speech prepared and didn't know what he would say if Drake's voicemail picked up. He'd probably just hang up.

"Josh?" The name was breathless, as if Drake had just run to answer it.

Josh was taken aback by the sound of Drake's voice and it took him a second to respond.

"Josh? Is that you?" Drake's voice sounded urgent, with maybe a hint of desperation thrown in for good measure.

"Yeah," Josh finally managed. "It's me."

"Thank God." Silence fell across the connection and Josh could hear Drake breathing on the other end. "I'm glad you called."

Josh closed his eyes. The phone worked both ways, he wanted to say. But really, he wasn't sure he would've answered if Drake had called. There was a reason why Drake had called Dad instead. "I hear you're in LA," he said.

"For a few days," Drake said.

"Rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, no doubt." The banter was awkward, but Josh didn't know what else to say.

Drake laughed. "Yeah, I'm having dinner with Ashley Blake tomorrow," he said. "Then it's off to Spielberg's mansion for tea."

Josh smiled. The last time he'd seen Ashley Blake was when he and Drake stuffed her into a trash can at The Premiere when they were sixteen. "Say hi for me, will you? Tell Ashley no hard feelings."

Drake laughed again, but it died quickly. "I will," he said, but the words barely carried through the phone.

Now was Josh's chance, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

"I'm sorry, Josh," Drake said into the silence. "I know that's not enough, but it's all I've got."

Josh felt his throat tighten. "Drake."

"I've fucked up all the chances I've had to make things right with you. I know that. And I know I don't deserve it, but—"

"Dinner's at noon tomorrow," Josh said, smiling. "I'll save you a drumstick."

*

"Daddy. Daddy, wake up."

The voice seemed to take forever to break into Josh's conscious brain, but when it finally did, his eyes shot open. He automatically looked to his left to find the source of the voice: Brady, his youngest, who was staring back at him, wide-eyed and tousled.

"Hey, buddy. What's the matter?" Josh asked, rolling over to face his son. He felt Mindy shift beside him.

"I heard a noise," Brady said, scratching at his belly through his superhero t-shirt. "Downstairs."

Josh smiled. "It's probably just Papa raiding the fridge," he told his son. Dad had always been a late night snacker.

"Nuh-uh," Brady said, shaking his head, digging his small fingers into the folds of Josh's blanket. "Papa's asleep. I saw him."

Josh stifled a sigh. He wasn't going to get out of this until he'd proven to Brady that everything was alright. "Okay," Josh said, throwing off the blankets and sitting up. "I'm up."

"What is it?" Mindy asked sleepily behind him.

Josh turned, laid a hand on her shoulder through the blanket. "Everything's alright, honey. Go back to sleep."

Mindy made an indecipherable sound into her pillow and settled back in.

Turning back to Brady, Josh met his eyes. "Let's go have a look, shall we?"

Brady nodded, his dark eyes huge in the moonlight.

"Okay." Josh slid his hands under Brady's arms and stood up, lifting the boy and fitting him against his hip. He felt small arms circle his neck and took a second to bury his nose in the boy's soft hair. At four years old, Brady had lost nearly all of his baby smell, but if Josh inhaled deep enough, he could still sense a trace of it. Like now, right behind the boy's ear.

As they made their way to the stairs, Josh could just make out a dull glow coming from the direction of the kitchen. He smiled. It _was _just his dad raiding the fridge.

"See?" Brady whispered, pointing towards the light as they reached the bottom.

Josh pressed his finger to his lips and signaled Brady to stay quiet. "Let's sneak up on 'im," he whispered and Brady smiled.

They walked through the living room, past the sofa where Brewster, one of the two family dogs, lay sprawled out, his paws dangling over the edge. Josh wondered where Cassie, the other dog, was and then realized she was probably upstairs in Molly's room, watching over Molly and Katie as if it was her sworn duty to protect little girls.

The sound of the refrigerator door opening, followed by the sharp clink of ice against an empty glass reverberated from the kitchen. Josh stepped into doorway as he said, "See? It's just—"

The culprit turned suddenly, his fingers gripped tightly around the glass in his hand, and met Josh's eyes across the island.

"Drake." Josh held Brady closer to him, felt the boy's arms tighten around his neck. Brady had never met Drake; his uncle was a stranger to him.

"I couldn't wait until noon," Drake said and tried to smile, but it slid from his lips almost immediately.

"How did you get in?" Josh asked, hoping Drake hadn't picked the lock.

A gleam shone in Drake's dark eyes. He tried smiling again; it stuck a little better this time. "The ceramic frog," he said. "Just like when we were kids."

"It's the same frog, actually," Josh said, feeling himself smile a little. "Mom gave it to us when we moved in."

Drake nodded and held Josh's eyes for a few seconds, before shifting his gaze to Brady. Josh watched Drake's face change, watched the way his thoughts skimmed across his eyes like storm clouds. "This must be Brady," Drake said, a hint of hoarseness in his voice.

Josh nudged his son, who was still clinging tightly to him. "Brady," he said. "This is your uncle Drake." Brady turned his head from staring at Drake to look at Josh, a question in his big eyes. "It's alright," Josh assured him.

Brady held his gaze a moment longer before hazarding another look at Drake.

"Hi, Brady," Drake said, setting the glass down on the island and walking over. He held out his hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Drake's smile was just like Josh remembered. His brother looked the same, albeit a little older. Drake wore his years around his eyes.

"Go on," Josh encouraged his son. "Say hi."

Brady reluctantly placed his small hand in Drake's. "Hi," he said in a tiny voice, then pulled his hand away, burying his face in Josh's neck.

Josh looked at Drake. "He's shy around strangers," he said and saw a shadow pass behind Drake's eyes at the words.

Drake looked from Josh to Brady and back. "He looks like you," he said.

Josh smiled. "Poor kid."

"I don't know," Drake said, a grin fighting to take control of his mouth. "It could be worse. He could look like Mindy."

Josh rolled his eyes. "Same old Drake, I see."

Drake's smile fell away and he reached out a hand to touch Brady's black curls. "No," he said and looked back up at Josh. "It's Uncle Drake now."

The End

***

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you!_

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